Bean's birth

You ready for more? We just celebrated her 5th birthday with a blowout party...{the very reason we don't do it every year} so let's start at her beginning. Again...love getting this in print...if you enjoy it, all the better.

Cruising right along, we were thoroughly in love with and enjoying our baby boy Bug. What a sweet baby he was...he was easy on my parental naivete. He was a good nurser, had an intoxicating giggle, a perfectly round head and the beginnings of red curls. I felt {and still feel} immensely privileged to accept this new position of mom and be able to stay home with him all day, every day. I continued my tutoring, but had a student coming directly to my house while Bug was napping. Worked perfectly...most days. 

Just after he became a year old,  his nursing was less frequent. I was sad, but I suppose I wanted my body and schedule back a little. We traveled on a retreat with our church's youth group and once we arrived home, he was pretty much finished. That was April and he was 14 months old.

You know what happened next...within a month I suspected I was pregnant. It was a weekday morning when I got up and took the test and I snuggled back into bed with a listening ear tuned in to the early morning murmurings of my little man. I think I even fell back asleep. Sweet Man was getting ready for work and he brought the test back in to me with a smile. Bean was on the way. 

So different than last time. It seemed my body was primed and ready for this pregnancy. I made sure to visit my chiropractor and began taking my progesterone supplement again.

Her pregnancy was fairly uneventful, except that I was so tired and couldn't sneak off and nap while I had my one year old on the loose. I remember coming up with a plan to let him play in our spare bedroom/playroom and sleep in front of the door to prevent escape. Well, his escape would at least wake me up. I was big faster than before and probably uncomfortable earlier. This time I didn't develop carpal tunnel, but she was sitting on my sciatic nerve....youch!

I saw the midwife who delivered Bug only once to have an ultrasound. I told her then that I was slightly disappointed in my hospital birth experience and surprised that she used medical intervention so readily {this is me, not so good at confrontation.} I left stating I would be having this baby at home. Back to Kathy I went. So exciting. 

Visits with her at her home were relaxed with Bug toddling around, playing with toys.  There were no internal exams...very little intervention. Just checking heart rates of me and baby, measuring of my belly, protein screening, and stepping on the scale. My protein was always low...{this is me, a carboholic.} Like our first, we did not know the gender of the baby.

The birth: Contractions began on a Friday. Very bearable and irregular. I cleaned and nested...clothes were tucked away in the dresser, cloth diapers organized, co-sleeper next to the bed. We had collected everything for our birth kit...towels, heating pad, plastic sheets, chux, etc. I splurged and bought raspberry candles for the birthing room. {And new toilet brushes for all 3 bathrooms. Very important.} The re-rented birthing tub was set up and ready to be filled.

Things continued that way through Saturday. Kathy and I had a couple of conversations. I didn't eat much, thinking that anytime my labor would really kick in. By the time Saturday Night Live was on, I was starving. Sweet Man made a huge bowl of kettle corn. I ate it. All. Fantastic idea. I slept off and on that night. 

By Sunday morning, things were happening. My midwife arrived before Bug was up. She asked me questions and was concerned that the little I had eaten the day before would not sustain me though the rest of the labor. She made me eat eggs and a couple cups of yogurt...again with the protein. We arranged for Mimi {my mom} to come and get Bug and deliver him to Opa {my dad.} Somehow, once he was safe and sound somewhere else, my body knew I could concentrate on the task at hand. 

Kathy and I took a walk in the frigid January air...I remember feeling silly waving to my neighbors as I was doubled over in a contraction. Back inside, my sweet friend and doula, Bekah arrived and my spirit immediately calmed. I rolled around the living room on my birthing ball as she filled me with labor tea. Kevin was upstairs filling the tub. Kathy gave me nasty-tasting herbal tinctures under my tongue to keep up my labor momentum.

I remarked how normal I felt...having a lovely conversation with friends, laughing...except this intense cramping would interrupt us. That and the fact I was in my underwear. Bekah encouraged me to go low with my vocal groans, from my belly...amazing how much that helped get me through the intensity.  I wouldn't even call it pain. Labor was so different this time.  Kathy examined me and declared me ready to get in the water.

Soon my mom returned, followed by my pregnant cousin, Carrie, and another dear friend, Molly. I was already upstairs in the tub. My contractions were strong and within 5 minutes of each other. Candles were lit in the dark room, Sarah Mclachlan was playing in the background, towels and receiving blankets were warmed, Bekah was reading scripture and taking pictures. Kathy's calm voice was reassuring and directing me. Sweet Man's strong arms helped me change positions and his touch made me feel safe.

I can't explain the difference I felt in my spirit with Bean's labor in contrast with Bug's. There was an assurance that I was made for this very experience. I never felt like I could not endure another contraction or had a fear that labor would go on for hours. Very different from Bug's birth where the pain was so intense I didn't want to face the impending agony of the next. With Bean, I was concentrating on one wave at a time and {kind of} enjoying the ride.

In a contraction, I would kneel against the side of the tub and when it was over, I would sit back against the heated wall. Changing positions in the water was so much easier than on dry land. Someone called down to the waiting ladies and they gathered in the room just behind me. It was time to start pushing. Everything started happening very fast.

{Here's where it gets a bit graphic...sorry. Or I could just post pictures...if you want. Ha!} I pushed through 2 contractions and Bean's head was out. As I waited for the next contraction I wanted to lean back again, but was afraid to sit down. My mom, Carrie, and Molly held their arms out and supported me as I leaned back  and bore the next contraction. Precious moment. 

And then baby girl was out...into her Daddy's waiting hands. He scooped her out of the water and lifted her to Kathy, who handed Bean to me. So perfect and peaceful.

A girl, born at 1:15pm on 1/15/06! We were immediately smitten. Sweet Man nuzzled into us and whispered his agreement to name her the name I had chosen. {He wanted another until he saw her.}

God had given us a birth experience more magical than I ever imagined. And a beautiful daughter through it all.

Links I love

I love words...and I'm striving to use them more intentionally and thoughtfully. Only what is kind and necessary and true, right, friends? The necessary is what gets me...sometimes it feels necessary...but when I play back the tapes, my words were oh so not necessary.

These links surely do say it all well.

To you JJ Heller peeps! {And if you don't consider yourself a JJ Heller peep...you must change. That is all.} My friend, Julie found this treasure.

She also linked me to this...fun everyday projects to re-purpose things you have or recreate things you've seen others have. I've already made a camera strap cover with her help...fast and cute.

Look at these adorable cuties over at small things. She's having a giveaway...and the consolation prize is a tutorial. I know one little girl who is about as gifted as she's going to be for a while, but the dolly is so cute.

The thrill of the hunt...how I feel about hunting wrapped up nicely...especially the fact that she notes hunters' and fisherpeople's {shush...don't want to leave the sisters out, 'kay?} care and respect for God's earth.

Beautiful words about death...you may not agree with everything, but she explains some complex emotions I have of my momma's death as she describes her experience with her own parents' deaths.

And before I took Sweet Man to the airport this morning, I walked and listened to a Mars Hill sermon from 1/2/11. It was a guest speaker, but he quoted a desert monk who said, "Society is a shipwreck from which you must swim for your life." For some radical reason, I love that concept. In the world, not of it. He also encouraged us to become gospel artists...continuing the story God has unfolded before. You're just going to have to listen to it. 

Now to swim a little harder and faster...and a little more JJ love.

Happy Mother's Day

Wish I could hug you, Momma....

And a little something to make you smile or cry or whatever you want to do.

Today's been a tender day for me.

I miss my man.

I miss my mom.

I'm MAD...

and I'm not sure at whom.

I want to do things I shouldn't.

I keep wondering...

Is this really my life?

My family?

My home?

I'm being shaped by events out of my control.

Aren't we all...?

Not sure if I'm ready for the continuing refinement...

But that may not matter.

Getting on...

We decorated Mimi and Opa's tree.

Perfect, since we aren't doing a real tree in our household on the move.

(There was some time-on-the-stairs because there was some not-listening.)

The train is running.

 We scared Murphy, the dog, with it.

We talked about Mimi.

She would have loved it.

Mental health update

I imagine that there are so many checking in on me...my story and life are indeed fascinating...so I won't keep the multitudes in suspense. (Journaling/blogging seems so self-absorbed....ick.)

I may sound crass...I do often...but I feel like I vomited emotionally last night. You know, that pressure that builds and when it's finally released...gross, but good. I'm feeling better...everything...my head, my heart, my body...I'm still tired, but that's my bad habit of staying up too late.

I asked for help...I asked the right people. I didn't want to ask friends or family who were suffering their own grief to bear some of my burden. So, I asked ladies not intimately involved in my family...women who wouldn't be sucked into my drama. They said what I needed to hear and asked me to feel what I needed to feel. They listened and I felt like I could say anything...they'd still love me. They held the rope, lowered me into the darkness and didn't let go. That was the kicker...I needed to know someone would be there to pull me out of it. Powerful help from powerful sisters. They embody the meaning of the Body of Christ.

It's time to honor my mom, her life, and her legacy in me...but it's time to get on with my life...not be stuck in the sadness.

They also encouraged me to do some homework...work that I have neglected, because "everything right now is so hard...I deserve a break." Yup, there's the lie I've believed for so much of my life. Entitlement..."I've been so good and worked so hard...I deserve this indulgence in (fill in the blank.)" Seeking comfort in the wrong things, for me, ends up being destructive...and ultimately uncomfortable...for me and possibly those around me. Seeking comfort and ease as a means of fulfillment, for me, is wrong. Or the lie, that I can't do this life thing...I'm too hurt, too damaged, too disillusioned.

I need to figure out what that all means. I don't understand it yet, so I'm sure I'm not explaining it articulately. Now begins the work of finding the truth that replaces the "I deserve it" lie when I think I need comfort. Or when is comfort appropriate? And from what/whom? What fulfills and what really destroys?

I need to absorb the truth that of course, I can't do this life thing. No one can alone...we can ask for help...and Help.

I am not proclaiming here and forever that I am finished with this chapter, but the unprovoked, pervasive sinking-into-my-bones-sorrow-can't-get-away-from-it is at bay. There was joy this morning. And gratitude.

(Today, the kids and I are pretty much just hanging out, making cookies, snuggling, cleaning a bit. Sweet Daddy's in Cincinnati and we thought we might be there by now, but our car is in the shop until Monday. So, don't be surprised if you see us. I'll be the one smiling.)

The Truth is...

Editor's note:  Honestly, I haven't wanted to write any of this...for lots of reasons, some petulant, and some justified. I can't get out of this funk. I know I'm not alone...and I guess this is my self-absorbed way of asking for yet even more prayer. I know some of you dear friends are struggling, too. Life is hard.

PS.: This is another rhetorical post...no need to comment on it.
And that last post has to be funny to me, or I would just lose another chunk of sanity. I will laugh at it or I  will lose my ever-loving mind.

There are changes in my body, my skin, my energy, my concentration level, my sleep, my balance, my muscles. Hence, the doctor visit and lab work. I want answers... and something I can implement without much effort. There are just no reserves.

My thought process is more convoluted than usual. Back and forth, I swing on any given decision or I just stop thinking about it.

To say I have conflicting emotions is an understatement.

I feel so alone, yet, I don't want to talk to anyone.

I want to be here in my home, but I want to join my husband in that lovely hotel. However, when I am with him, I expect (there's that word again) him to understand that I really just want to go to bed and hide. (Understand, I'm just recognizing that feeling myself...and have only begun to express it to him.) I loosen up on my emotions and let down a little...but that unleashes other emotions and I am downright mean to him. Not to mention, I don't want to do the work it takes to get to where he is.

I cling to my kids and then avoid engaging with them. Or I yell.

I want this phase of grieving to be over. (Again, no need for alarm...I don't want life to be over...I just want it to get back to normal.) I keep thinking the worst is over. I am wrong. I expected the holiday flare-up and the finality of getting rid of her things. So, when does this wave slide back to the sea?

And I fear I'm driving people away talking about how miserable I am. There's no sense that I'm still feeling this way. Just give me the next task, so I can get on with it.

I want my Savior. Where is He, anyway? I can think of a Sunday School answer...but it doesn't help me much right now.

Roadblock

I'm good at going on, but next week I can see an obstacle. I can't keep putting my head down and plugging away at this life. There looms an empty chair that stops my momentum. It is so imposing, I can't even take my eyes off it.

Grief falls down on me today. My chest twists anticipating my most cherished holiday.

I will look for her, her back to the others in the kitchen, impatient with my dad's lack of immediate response to "It's time to carve the bird." Never sitting down for more than 2.5 minutes, I will see her poised with hands, pinkies slightly raised, on the back of that chair. She'll sigh and smile, seeing her beloved family is seated and ready to pass the dishes.

I will stand in the kitchen listening. I will be thankful. But the table is waiting and my eyes still search for her.

Momma missed

My mom missed two parties this weekend. They were both her kinds of events. The first, a Girls' Night Out party at church. Some music, silly games, and chocolate. I clicked through online pictures of the party and cried.

Then Sunday, loved ones gathered to say goodbye to her earthly remains. We gathered first in the woods at the church. Then we drove on to the property formerly known as SVP. The warm autumn day had plenty of leaves on the trees and a brilliantly blue sky. Some of us spoke, some of us didn't. The kids played in the field. There was an invasion of labradors who tumbled down the hill, hiking with my cousin. Mom would have loved dogs running in and amongst a gathering in her honor.

Soup, sandwiches and dessert waited for us at her house.

Oh, she would have been so mad to have missed both events.


Death does not sting...but missing her does. I've been telling myself and others so often that I am okay and I feel it more than not. But these moments remind me that I am still not okay with her leaving us.

I'll see you soon, Mom.

Almost two months...

I loved my momma. I miss her.

I don't want to canonize her just because I ache. We didn't have the "best friend" relationship some mothers and daughters have. We spoke a few times a week and saw each other at least once a week when we were in the same town. We loved to run errands together or just sit and visit.

I am so thankful that she was able to come visit us in Houston while she was still well.

The finality of her leaving still shocks me every day.

She drove me nuts, endearingly so. She was flighty and fluttery...asking a question and then not really listening to the answer. When the first babe came along, her inability to focus became worse as he split our attention. As much as she wanted to be a grandma, it was not exactly natural to her. She could never quite sink into the role and really relax. But she was a great Mimi, just her style.

Momma never claimed to be a domestic goddess, but she made delicious chili.  I've tried to duplicate it hundreds of times. And oatmeal cookies...she always put them in our Easter baskets with fresh strawberries. For my fourth birthday, she made me a Big Bird cake.

She was a collector and a consumer...she had like 37 vacuums, each with a different purpose and the expectation that it would surely do a better job cleaning than its predecessor. We teased her.

Apples, lighthouses, frogs, teacups, etc. still adorn the house. So different from me...I don't collect. Objects that don't serve a necessary purpose, don't stay in my house long. I'm a bit brutal, really.

Mom had an infinitely generous spirit, bringing "just because" gifts to us often in these years with babes. Maybe too often. After an afternoon of running errands in our neck of the woods, she'd stop by in the late afternoon. It was a great time for me to sit and talk, especially when the kids still napped. We'd quietly catch up on our weeks over the warmed-up morning coffee, waiting for little faces to peek down the staircase. I miss that.

Many people don't know: she held our family up financially as Dad's business attempts failed. We had no money until she returned to work when I was in 6th grade. She never undermined Dad, though, to Nat or me. I know now that it was frustrating to her to watch her husband work so hard, but never be able support us financially. I've thought often, would I be as gracious?

Friends and family have told me several times over the years how they felt my mom's unconditional love. She lived it out. I must have taken it for granted most of my life. Because they remarked about it, I became much more aware of it. After my mistakes aplenty, she was sad but never condemning. I never felt the slip-sliding away of affection or pride.

She didn't manipulate me or my brother to her preferred outcome, but waited for us to ask for her help. She loved us well, consistently, never keeping accounts. After a mistake was consequenced or untangled, she forgot it. Her love was sure.

And she loved my friends and my Sweet Man the same way. Unconditionally.

I want to be that kind of momma.

This thing called grief has so many surprises up its sleeve. It blindsides me still, almost every day. It's not a sadness of what she went through or where she is now, because that all worked to the best. It's mostly grieving for my dad's lost love and for the life I thought she'd live with my kids.

I like to be prepared for every possible situation, but don't know how to navigate or anticipate these emotions. I just carry a hankie with me everywhere, now.

When an older female friend gives me a hug, my eyes begin to leak. What's that about?

The morning she died, my dad, brother, husband, and I had just left her side and were leaving the hospital. We rode down the elevator and I looked around at the men in my life and thought, "This is my family now. We'll never be the same." I've been riding elevators often lately, living on the 5th floor of a hotel. That moment floods back almost every time I'm in one.

I was working on digital scrapbook pages the other night and soon couldn't see the computer screen through my wet eyes. Looking at pictures of her, remembering how she loved my babes and showed visitors those scrapbooks with pride, brought it all out again. I didn't get much finished.

In the moments of just waking up or just falling asleep, when the events of the day are not in focus and my mind is not guarded, I see her in her last hours. Just snapshots, not videotapes like I did immediately after she died. I thank God He has stopped the videotapes.

She wasn't scared, but I was so helpless to her and desperate to say and do everything I could. But I don't want to remember her last hours when she still with us but was slipping under and all I could was watch. There were moments, I couldn't even do that.

There is so much I don't want to forget.

with Opa

Happy Friday! Here we are...up in East Harbor State Park, near Sandusky, on the banks of the Great Lake Erie. My dad has been here since Monday. We are just staying tonight.

We have spectacular weather today, a full-up fridge, and a promise of a campfire tonight.... 

And my girl is back with me after 4 days...she's asked me to stop telling her how much I missed her. And I do believe she had a fantastic time with Grammy and Grandpa. I bet they're napping as I type. Whew!

On our drive up, today, we happened upon a fun General Store in Olivesburg...old-fashioned candy, Amish furniture, interesting things. Here are the kids, each with their candies of choice. Yes, it was about 10 o'clock this morning and yes, I'm a superb parent.

The kids and I have already been to see the glacial grooves that are exposed in this state park.  But the most famous ones are over on Kelley's Island. Tomorrow we'll probably head over there or do something else tourist-y. I'm driving my dad and husband crazy outlining the planning options for tomorrow. 


They all went off for a walk to the camp store and I find myself here alone, half-wondering when my momma is going to get back from wherever she is with a plan for dinner. 


Ooo, I smell campfires already. I really think I could become a full-time camper. I love this.

Non plus...

I don't know what to write. I don't know if I should write. Is it even appropriate? I do know that, again, I don't want to forget what I am feeling...but can I articulate it well? Probably not. (Disclaimer: this post is in the "journal entry" genre, not the "eloquently proclaiming to the universe" genre...look elsewhere for that.)

I've given in to better living through chemistry...a sleeping aid at night and my usual 2 cups of coffee in the morning...I'm not exhausted like I was last week. Last week was engulfed in the activity that follows a beloved's death; wow, had no idea. This week, we've slept in, lounged, puttered without progress; been generally useless. I've had time for my emotions to catch up. Not in an incapacitating way, but in a random, intense downpour of feelings that are all along the spectrum; from melancholy to anger to thanksgiving.

I continue to be in awe and thankful that one of my prayers was answered...to be in the right place at the right time to attend/support/bear this physical avalanche with my mom. Somehow God arranged for me to join Sweet Man out in the world, when she wasn't in freefall from more bad news. And I was beside her in the moments that the avalanche surged and pitched and pelted.

I think He did that for my sake...she didn't need me to be there so much...but if I hadn't been, this all would be unbearable.

Not to mention, Sweet Man and I were together celebrating an anniversary/kids safe in the Valley weekend when the final cascade began. We were able to leave and be involved in her last hours.

SM has been with me...I mean, the prop-up, dry my tears, 'go take a nap-I've got this,' grieving for his own loss kind of way.

On the day before my momma passed, he rubbed her feet (he's the official foot masseur.) When I told her he had stepped out for a bit, she said, "Oh, he is such a man." In the good way. They really loved each other. I can't imagine going through this without him.

Timing...I tell you...my Heavenly Father knows what He's doing, indeed.

But, I am overcome often when I realize things like...I should've taken more pictures of her. From April on, I would think "I need to grab my camera" and then second-guess and not want to make her uncomfortable with a documentation of her hair loss. She did not ever become comfortable wearing her "hair-hats," as Bug called them. She much preferred wearing her actual hats. Very cute, I might add. I would tell myself there would be more time for pictures when she is healthy again. What a mistake...my presumption of her discomfort (not even accurate) kept me from capturing precious moments.

Her body's ability to function plunged from April until August, but her emotion and spiritual soundness didn't. She had 4 months of seeing life more clearly, through the "cancer" lens. She had 4 months of people loving on her. Knowing she is now at the best party ever, reuniting with beloveds, playing her dulcimer with no wrong notes, and singing second soprano like never before is great comfort.

But the preeminent emotion of the week is "I can't believe she's gone"...no more chances to take pictures of her cuddling my babes on the couch, no more trips to Trader Joe's, no more "Hi, it's your Momma" on my voicemail, no more walking me to my car in her driveway to tell me " just one more thing." No more.

More Cincinnati

We went for a hike last night with Sweet Man. For those of you keeping score at home, that's a total of 3 Cincinnati parks patronized by our family yesterday. We are certainly getting our money's worth....

Today, we took a trip to the Cincinnati Zoo (half price weekend, uh-huh!!!) Sweet Man and I had been there years ago BK (before kids.) Today it was Bug, Bean, and me. Perfect zoo weather. Fun. Tired. Lots of pictures....and a cool cheetah gibbon video.

P. S. My momma will be evaluated next week to determine how her treatment will proceed. Prayers are always appreciated...there's so much to pray for these days....I should do little else.

Beyond blessed

Hi, Sweet Friends,

It's Friday and I sit this glorious evening on MY porch in my new FREE chair. Oh yes, I've been "Yard-sale"ing and the booty is plentiful. I know, it's becoming an obsession.

It has been a great week...a challenging one. But in light of all, really great. The body of Christ is alive and well in my Momma's life (and mine.) I cannot keep track of the blessings she has received. There are friends at every turn offering help, time, food, flowers, and especially prayer. And she is better this week. More independent and sassy.

Anyway, here are snapshots:

* found a pesky receipt that had eluded me

* caught up with two of my momma's sisters and introduced my babes to one of them for the first time

* spent 2 normal days with my babes...doing puzzles, making bread, general puttering

* visited our hometown Children's museum with a sweet friend and our 5 babes

* unpacked 4 6 bins of my stuff...aahhhh

* been present as a another sweet friend delivered a gorgeous baby girl

* gotten the yard, the pool and the house under control, well almost

* had several enlightening and encouraging phone conversations, especially one with my Recovery sponsor...

* indulged in appetizers for dinner with a sweet friend...yum! just what I needed.

* officially taken the house of the market...the sign and the lock box are gone (watch, now we'll get an offer and consider it...)

* sent my babes off to my terrific in-laws for three days, which coincides with the primo yard-sale-ing days of the week...not planned, but embraced...

* listened to three podcast sermons on 3 bike rides. Rob Bell from Mars Hill Detroit oozes wisdom...you can listen here. And I'm talking, like every sentence from Bill Johnson hits between the eyes...

* found these on my porch...beautiful!

* scored $100's of homeschooling books for about $50 at a yard sale! Because, oh yeah, I am about to be the momma of an official kindergartner...eeek!

* had a friend insist that every Wednesday evening for the forseeable future, she will stay with my babes to give me a break

* received news that my sweet man is being transferred to an office in Cincinnati...road trip to Cincy to stay for part of next week! Lots of catch-up hugs and kisses!

* prayed like never before, not out of fear...I am not impressed by cancer; I am confident in my God.

So good week, and I'm ready to tackle the next.

By Contrast

I've been quiet and busy.

We received some more medical news about my momma. The beast has spread its tentacles into her brain. And I mean beast. It is taking a lot to fight this. And she's doing it with a smile (most of the time) on her face.

Day to day I'm deciding if I can be a mom or a daughter...because I can't do both very well right now. Oh, the help offered and accepted...I have a list of favors to repay in my head...impossible task.

As I was waking up this morning, and remembering the challenges ahead, I realized that the underlying-it-all sadness I feel is precious. Precious, because it demonstrates how much I love her and need her. You know, that whole "we appreciate the sun after a rain" thing.

Precious, because hardship has been rare in my life. If I can get out of my own world, I see there is plenty of suffering to go around. No profundity here...you all now this already. You've survived some already. No one gets through this life without being affected by it, but I have suffered relatively little (in spite of my stupidity.) So the question is: when suffering comes...how do I handle it?

My mom's life is blessed. (I am taking some liberties speaking for her, but she says this regularly.) She lives a purposeful, productive, serving, loving life. She knows the deep love of a man who adores her ~just celebrating 40 years on July 19th. (You should see my silly dad ~ he is so funny and playful with her these days.) And she knows the bottomless, rich love of a Savior who is "especially fond of her" (props to The Shack.) She has accepted the grace offered to erase present mistakes and old pain. She is thankful for the lessons He has shown. And she trusts that God ultimately will work out the best plan for her.

We continue to watch for miracles and the "unfolding of the mysteries of healing" (just spoke to a family friend and that's what she prayed...wow...yeah, that's what I want.)

She knows (and I know) that no matter what we will be okay. We rest in the grip of God.

Drifting

The news from Mimi's surgeon was not what I was/we were expecting. Shell-shocked...I was just counting on her best option becoming a reality. And then, about 2 hours later, Sweet Man received a call that he was being sent back to Wichita. So now the decisions need to be made.

I preface with this: We chose this job for Sweet Man with its lifestyle and its challenges.

Do the kids and I go to Kansas?

When do we leave?

How long do we stay?

What do we need to get there and to stay there?

And if we stay "home," where do we rest our heads?

Who takes care of the house/grass/pool that we still own while we are gone?

Where is the best place for the kids?

Who helps my momma? And am I any help to her if I stay?

Where do You want me to be? And where do others want me to be? (I'm learning that the latter is less and less important than I used to think it was.)

I have this habit of falling asleep for about 15 minutes and then waking to be ultra-conscious and ultra-anxious. Friday night, it all came down on me. Too tired...my guard was down. I fell apart as the waves of worry kept crashing. Sweet Man discovered me and held on. I'm falling apart often these days. Have you noticed?

In his wisdom, he didn't say much and let me blubber on. At last, he gently suggested that we ride this last little bit of "house on the market" push. If we return from Wichita and no one has purchased our house, we will take it off the market and move back in for our "home" times.

That decision had a profound effect on me...diffusing my anxiety. Whether or not it actually happens...it was so good to hear him say what I've been suggesting for a while. I jumped into this life decision with both feet and eyes closed, following him. And for a few months, I've been trying to catch up with him or pull him back to where I am. I need an anchor. I want to stop drifting. I just want to be. I need an Anchor to hold me.

But I kept crying a while longer.

Crazy is catching up with me

Caution: Bi-monthly vent session/agonizing navel-gazing ahead...proceed without judgment, please.

(Please understand, I am so thankful for all the help, patience, and counsel we have received from all of you. I do not want to be thankless. I want to be honest and real. This self-centered post is really to help me try to sort this all out...like a diary entry. Rhetorical.)

When it comes to big life stuff, my decision-making skills are poor, to say the least. I grind away at possibilities, stay up late mulling, ask the grocery cashier what she thinks, and then beg my husband to just tell me what to do. I don't like making a bad decision. I don't like people thinking I am making a bad decision. And I am terribly uncomfortable being the stop for the buck, the end of the line, the one holding the proverbial bag and having to defend my decision. I want someone else to defend me. I want to feel that I am not on my own swinging in the breeze. When we come right down to it, I want someone to blame if "you know what" hits the fan. Can you say "co-dependent, passive-aggressive?" Can you say, "Grow up!"?

I do have to make decisions...all the time. Just like everyone. So now, if I have to make one, I scrunch my eyes and just jump. And spend a few days, looking over my shoulder, wondering, did I make a good decision this time? Please? Sometimes I even change my mind and drive everyone around me n.v.t.s. NUTS!

So I made a decision to travel home...worked out a way to efficiently use up the contents of our fridge (eat, eat, and keep eating!) got an oil change for the road, started packing, and communicated those plans. You know, got my head around the logisitics of it and locked it in.

Now that I am committed, why is it that last night in the dark...the thoughts creep in and start to distort my circumstances...while my husbands snores (really, have you heard him?) peacefully away and the darkness overwhelms? I sound so dramatic, but at the time, it really was. I was isolated and afraid, and my thoughts swirled. Anxiety led to more anxiety. "What are we going to do about...? and what about.....?" It built until I broke and asked God if I could just crawl into His lap. And I finally went to sleep. 

It has happened often enough throughout the years, that I can recognize it for what it is...intense irrationality. I can tell myself it won't last all night; just ride it out and life will look differently in the light of the new morning. Or, God-willing, the episode will even be forgotten.

But last night, it may have been a little different, like there was some truth in it. The anxiety lingers faintly. These are thoughts that have been circling but not landing in this brain. And all surround the circumstances of our new gypsy life.

1. How is this gypsy life affecting the kids? Does moving around every few weeks get to them? Is their sense of security threatened? And not having Daddy around all the time...how does that affect them? Are there enough constants in their lives to anchor?

2. We have not been in one place long enough to get the babes involved in dance, art, music, soccer, karate, etc. (Well, we were home long enough, but didn't realize it soon enough...such is this life.) How do I raise well-rounded people when I am not particularly proficient in those areas and can't hand them over to someone who is? 

3. How do I mitigate the mental exhaustion of an almost constant stream of evaluation: where is the best place to be today? With Sweet Daddy on the road? stay in the hotel for the day? go to a park? Stay in the Valley? In Licking County? 

4. And what do we need to maximize our day? groceries, intellectual stimulation, rest, coffee, new socks, companionship, alone time, cash, exercise, fun, discipline, a potty...? And how and where do I find what we need in this place that I barely know?

5. We've left our old life behind...and our friends. We can try to make friends where we are at any given time, but we have friends, that we love and miss. I keep thinking that when we are home, we can plug back in, but it's not quite the same. And we do not live in Licking County anymore. I need to get that through my head. It's different.

6. (This one is so stupid.) The Neal Avenue POOL...ugh...our neighbors must be shaking their fists at the sky for leaving 10,000 gallons of mosquito goodness within 10 feet of their backyard. We have got to get home to do something about that stupid pool that we probably won't even use this summer. Grrrrr.....

and the big one....

7. My momma is sick...and it's real...and I can't do anything from here or there.  

Last night, in the dark, it seemed easier to just stay here and ignore the challenges of coming home.

I have learned through Celebrate Recovery that I have a delay on my feelings; it takes me a while to recognize how I feel about a given situation. I have a wise friend who asks me how I'm doing, how this life change is affecting me. I answer..."We're good. It's a fun life. It has its challenges. I love it." And I do love it...it is fun and challenging. But why are these latent feelings waking me up? And do I need to take them seriously?

So, let's review...my immediate family is safe, well-fed ;), dry, warm. Most bills are paid. And we are loved...I am thankful. Really. Wah!

Wichita

We had a fairly uneventful trip from St. Louis to Wichita. We woke up at 7:30 our time, (6:30 St. Louis') ate breakfast, and went for another swim. (Hush yourselves, swimming danger after eating is a myth. At least, I think.) We left the hotel around 10 and drove and drove and drove. Very easy drive...70 W, take a left in Kansas City. I drove through Kansas once before with my friend, Heidi, on a trip to Breckenridge, CO...Kansas was loooooong...at 35 mph through an ice storm. No problems like that today, though....

It was smooth sailing down the Kansas turnpike...really beautiful...until I heard my fuel light ding. Duh, forgot to fill up, but no worries, still had 35 miles or so to go. I kept my eyes peeled...lovely rolling, green hills, lots of cows, dropping mileage. And no exits, who knew? Once I had dropped below 10 miles, I began to come up with 2 or 3 contingency plans: coast as much as possible, wait on the side of the road for help, walk to the town with babes in tow, stop at a farm and depend on the kindness of strangers or the fistful of 20's I'd offer in desperation.


Oh, yeah...and pray...

I GPS'ed for gas stations...the nearest one was 6 miles to the exit and another 12 beyond the turnpike. Seemed my best bet, so I took the exit, rolled through the toll both with 2 miles of gas to go. As I paid, I asked the woman in the booth if there was a station closer. "No, honey. I'm in the middle of nowhere." She was nonplussed in my crisis; must see it often. 


I drove...and then "0....". Just keep driving, just keep driving.

I must have driven 14 or 15 miles with the "0" glaring at me and my heart pounding. But it was like Hannukah...He made the oil last...Hallelujah...another catastrophe averted. Thank you, Lord. My thirsty van got its fill at the BP.

We rolled in to Wichita an hour later and reunited with Sweet Daddy at his office and followed him to the hotel. We're gonna be just fine here...pull-out couch in our room, other families with kids, complimentary breakfasts and dinners available, free visits to the Y around the corner. Yes, just fine.

BTW - Go see my momma's page on caringbridge.org 's site. It is a great way for her to keep info about her treatment up to date, accurate and on her terms and for those of us who love her to remind her.

...a bit of a mood swing...

I just read that last post and in the dark of night as the exhaustion of the day sinks in, my words seem so flippant. I am excited to travel, maybe, but will so be here, too. My default decision -making process would be to ask everyone around me what I should do...let's try this...where do You want me?

My mom has a new mountain to move. And I stand ready with grubby clothes and a shovel in hand. Or does He want me to just get out of the way and watch Him work? Where do You want me to be?

Mom

Lots of you have asked about my mom. So, mom, I'm gonna out you some more. The way I see it, the more who know, the more will see God glorified.

My mom has been diagnosed with lung cancer. She says she's waiting for the doctors to prove it to her...and we know God can heal her at any point with a touch or with medicine. May His will be done. She begins the medical part of this journey soon, but I can tell you that her spiritual quest is well underway. Go, mom! I'm right behind you.